


Wasted Verse

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A roughly chronological collection of one shots featuring Zoe Surana and Morrigan.  Rating will vary with chapter, check the top.</p><p>Title taken from the lyrics of Artist vs Poet's "Adorable"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Took A Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Took A Chance - Rated G  
> Alistair, Zoe, and Morrigan heading out of the wilds

“Are you alright?” Alastair glanced over Zoe's shoulder as he spoke, his voice pitched purposefully loud. “I saw you talking to Morrigan. Nothing froze off from that glare, did... wait, why are you smiling?” He blinked when he finally looked at her, and not Morrigan, who had not moved very far off and was clearly still listening.

Zoe felt heat rise under her skin, and she glanced away, busying her eyes with scanning the swamp for danger. “Because I was talking to Morrigan?” Her reply wasn’t nearly as loud as Alastair’s “conversational” tone had been, but Morrigan turned her head to glance at her through enigmatic, suspicious even, eyes anyway. 

Their gazes locked and Zoe offered her a brief nod. Morrigan sniffed and turned away, but not before Zoe spotted the slight reddening of her cheeks.

“O-kaaay then,” a male voice intruded.

Zoe turned her attention back to Alastair, who was looking at her with a genuinely puzzled expression. Not because he’d caught their interaction, but at her response to his question. As if nothing about a haughty, confidant, _free_ mage should be remotely appealing. 

She coughed self-consciously and smoothed her own expression into the blank face of a subservient (Zoe vowed to herself that she would learn how to retain that veneer of arrogance Morrigan sported while still giving none of her emotions away). Her chest gave an unpleasant lurch under her neutral facade. But he was not a Templar and his interest in her interactions with another mage was not something to be feared. She tried to breathe normally. “Was there something you wanted, Alistair?” she asked him calmly.

“Noooo,” he drew the word out. “I think I reached my quota of puzzling my way through enigmatic mystical sentences when we were still talking to Morrigan’s mother. Tell me,” he leaned towards her with a teasing smile that made her blink. “Do they have courses on how to do that at the Circle or is it something that just comes to mages naturally? It must since, oh wait that’s right, we’re traveling with an _apostate_ now,” his voice rose again, speaking more at Morrigan than to Zoe, herself. Again.

She tilted her head up at him. Actually, it was something people who were hunted, prosecuted, or oppressed their whole lives had to learn. How to simultaneously lie to some people and secretly tell the truth to others when it wasn’t safe to speak plainly. Zoe didn’t say that though, not just out of the habit of keeping her thoughts safely to herself, but because his puppy-playfulness was as well meant as it was thoughtless. “Instinct is environment,” she told him, instead. The same truth, but one that he could only understand in his own time, when he was ready to understand it. If he even remembered this conversation.

“You did that on purpose,” he accused as he tried to work through her statement. “I’m on to you.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, to both statements, letting the corners of her mouth drift upwards.

“Fine,” Alistair threw up his hands. “I get it, you win. Well played. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Must you, truly?” Morrigan interjected. “Do you not find all that senseless sound intrusive?” 

“Well excuse me for wanting to have a polite conversation.”

Zoe snorted. She had seen better pretenses at civility from inter-fraternity meetings among the Senior Enchanters of different schools of magic, and that was saying something. They both looked at her. “Sorry,” she apologized, quickly. “Silence for a little while now and then you and I,” she nodded at Alistair. “Can talk about the best pranks we’ve ever pulled on a Templar. Surely Morrigan will not find that subject too ‘intrusive’?”

They both smiled at her, Alistair broadly, Morrigan’s a more subtle tilt of the lips, proving Zoe had read her audience correctly. She wondered if any of her stories could get the witch to laugh.


	2. Bitter Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitter Words - Rated PG  
> Before night fall in Redcliff Village. Sometimes is it the amazed thank yous that are bitter and the sarcastic insults that sound sweet. This one is very short.

There was a hard edge to the way Zoe’s face was utterly blank, not just neutral, in the manner that it only got when she was maintaining a very tight lid on herself. Her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands, unnoticed, as she stepped out of the village's Chantry.

 _Ignorance,_ she told herself sternly. _The Revered Mother,_ in the safety of her own mind the title echoed with an arrogant sneer, _made her comments in ignorance. Which is no reason for offense._ Zoe was tired and the fatigue was making her grouchy. _Walking all morning and then building barricades all afternoon will do that to a person._ Person. Elven-mage, yes, but a **person**. _And isn’t it so very **amazing** that one **person** such as myself would stand between undead **monsters** and a bunch of helpless **children**..._

In contrast to Zoe’s waxen features, Morrigan’s smirk was malicious as she cut into Zoe’s thoughts with a loud sniff. “Well, help them if you must, but at least let us do it from over here a ways.” She stepped past Zoe and took another obvious breath, looking oddly pleased for someone against the entire situation. “Ah, fresh air. 'Twas difficult to breathe with all that self-righteousness crowding the air.”

As the witch walked away (Alistair and Leliana stiffly following after her while simultaneously pretending Morrigan didn’t exist if the sudden stiffness in their shoulders was anything to go by) Zoe felt the tight ball in her chest relaxing. It was difficult to give the subject of Morrigan’s disregard too much weight. One foolish old woman held nothing compared to that elegant sneer. Following after her companions, Zoe inhaled and smiled.


	3. Circle Games - Rated M!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circle Games - Rated M  
> PWP, this is your warning. Heavy use of magic play.

Morrigan is close behind her and as soon as she steps passed the witch’s tent flap a hand is on her shoulder, spinning her around and Morrigan’s lips descend upon hers. It’s a kiss that’s meant to be dominating as Morrigan presses closer, taller, stronger, _human_ , but Zoe gives as good as she gets. She slips her hands down to Morrigan’s hips and yanks her foward as Zoe rocks up against her. As Morrigan moans in surprise and pleasure, Zoe slips her tongue into the other’s mouth, tasting copper and salt.

Clothing is in the way as her robe and Morrigan’s skirt prevent any real friction. Were they in the Tower, Zoe would not hesitate to take the... expedient solution, but she has learned it is not a simple matter to replace clothing out here. She, herself, no longer has a spare robe ever since desperation had forced her to detonate a fireball a little closer than was comfortable. Hands tugging in her hair momentarily derail her train of thought as Morrigan stops dueling with her tongue and starts _sucking_.

Zoe groans, low and hot and needy. She abandons her efforts to undo Morrigan’s skirt for the moment and slides her hands upwards instead. Easily slipping under the loose clothing, she palms Morrigan’s breasts. Zoe smirks into Morrigan’s mouth as she feels the witch’s nipples tighten under her touch. The next part she wants to try requires a modicum of concentration, so she reluctantly breaks the kiss and nips at Morrigan’s neck before the witch can protest. Her eyes slide shut as she focuses the majority of her attention on her hands.

Morrigan jerks in her arms and gives a full throated cry as one of Zoe’s hands turns to ice, the other flame. Both are underpowered versions of the spells Zoe so often uses in battle; neither strong enough to hurt but both borderline the sensation. Movement is key and Zoe doesn’t let her hands rest in one place long enough to freeze or burn. She trails lines of ice and fire down Morrigan’s stomach and up again, following the curves of the human’s body.

Morrigan yanks Zoe’s head back up and forces her tongue into the elf’s mouth. Electricity dances everywhere she licks and oh! That really isn’t fair. Zoe tries to move against Morrigan but their clothing is _really_ in the way. Enough is enough.

Morrigan’s eyes widen as Zoe shoves her backwards and her magic lifts her into the air, suspending her.

“What _is_ that?” Morrigan gasps as waves of pressure lightly caress her body, holding her aloft.

“Crushing prison, modified.” Zoe undoes her own robe while Morrigan is helpless to do more than watch.

“Teach me,” the witch demands as her breasts, her ass, everything, is squeezed teasingly and released. Again and again.

“Later.” Zoe slides the fabric slowly from her shoulders, vain enough to enjoy the way Morrigan’s eyes darken as more of her body is revealed. “But it’s not really the type of spell you try on a person until you get the pressure right.” She makes her magic squeeze just a hint tighter to prove her point before dropping Morrigan.

The glyph of paralyzation catches Zoe by surprise and she would have laughed if she could, because this is starting to feel more like a mage duel than fucking. But then it’s Morrigan’s turn to strip, and Zoe can only watch, dry mouthed, as the pale skin is revealed. Morrigan is slender for a human, but well muscled for an elf and Zoe has a thing for warrior women. Just a bit stronger, just a bit bigger than herself, coming helplessly undone under her hands and tongue. Her eyes drift down, over the pert nipples and to the soft thatch of dark hair as the witch steps out of her skirt. Then Morrigan turns around and bends over to take off her boots.

Zoe’s heart is pounding when Morrigan finishes and they are both naked, but she’s still frozen fast and can’t even speak, although the latter is probably not due to the spell. The witch circles her, stepping out of Zoe’s sight. Hands touch her back, sweeping down an arm, up to cup her ass, a finger traces her spine, but Morrigan never lingers. Continuing to tease with her hands, Morrigan bites the juncture of Zoe’s neck, where it meets her shoulder. Zoe finds she can force sound from her lips after all as Morrigan sucks to leave a mark, before soothing the sting with her tongue.

Then the witch’s hands are suddenly where Zoe needs them and the elven mage mentally awards this round to her opponent, before giving herself over to the sensations Morrigan is pulling from her body. She moans as Morrigan uses electricity again, sending tingling sparks over Zoe’s most sensitive flesh while she explores her. 

At last, giving in to Zoe’s breathy urging, Morrigan slips one finger inside, stroking questioningly. It’s not quiet enough but a second one would probably be too much. Zoe moans in frustration.

“Morrigan, how is your ice control?”

Morrigan stills, then her finger withdraws. If she could have moved, Zoe would have followed it but she can’t manage more than a slight twitch against the magic still holding her in place. 

“You mean like this?” The witch breaths in her ear, entering her again. 

The ice coating her finger is cold and Zoe can’t bite back her yelp of shock, even if she was excepting it. “Yes. Just a little thicker.” There’s a chuckle, then: “Morrigan!”

It’s perfect, she’s filled perfectly, stretched _just enough_ , and the cold is delicious too, in its own way. Morrigan begins to move and Zoe’s eyes roll back in her head as she loses herself to the friction. 

“Almost, Morrigan, I’m close,” she chants. “Andraste’s tits, just a bit more.”

Morrigan fills her, hard, and holds her finger there while sending a spark dancing across Zoe’s clit and that’s all it takes. Habit makes Zoe bite her lip to keep from screaming as she comes, momentarily forgetting there were no longer any templars around to care if the mages were fucking. Only a little whimper emerges and she sags into Morrigan’s arms as the spell finally lets her go; the timing a little too coincidental to be such. Zoe tilts her head back and kisses Morrigan’s chin as the witch withdraws from inside her. They will definitely have to trade tricks under less heated circumstances because that was even better than restraints. But that’s for later.

Zoe turns in Morrigan’s arms, legs only a little shaky, and walks the witch backwards towards her bedroll. 

“Are you planning to have your wicked way with me?” Morrigan teases as she lies down.

Zoe grins. “I plan to have my tongue inside you, your heels digging into my back, as you scream your release. Unless there are any objections?”

“No,” Morrigan swallows as Zoe kneels over her. “No objections.”

“Good.” Zoe dips her head and kisses her way down Morrigan’s stomach. The witch’s thighs part for her to move between them, ticking Zoe’s nose with the smell of her arousal. The mage’s hands slid under Morrigan’s knees as she moves downwards and she guides them over her shoulders, kissing the inside of each thigh as they come to rest. Meeting the golden eyes that stare down at her, Zoe laces fingers with the witch as Morrigan reaches a hand down to her. Her free hand parts Morrigan and Zoe mutters a spell before dipping her head to taste.

Morrigan’s hips jerk upward, a choked sound emerging from her lips as Zoe’s tongue brushes against the flesh her healing spell sensitized. Zoe takes her time but Morrigan falls apart quickly under her mouth. Her hand grips Zoe’s fingers painfully as Zoe sucks on her clit, but it’s a small price to pay to hear the way her name breaks across Morrigan’s tongue as she come. The tower mage keeps up her attentions until the witch relaxes back onto the bedroll with a breathy sigh.

As Morrigan’s breathing evens out, Zoe detangles herself and starts to gather her robe automatically.

“Leaving so soon?” the witch’s voice makes her pause. There will be no templars coming to check for students out of bed, no real reason to leave.

Zoe smiles. “I could be convinced to stay.”

She still has a few tricks Morrigan has yet to see.


	4. Adorable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adorable - Rated PG  
> Relationships are a mixed bag.

The smell was enough to make her gag. Zoe had to blink away tears to see the mangled rabbit corpse Morrigan was holding up for inspection... at arms length, the witch was not a fool. Clapping one hand over her nose and mouth, the circle mage promptly shot the offending item with a ray of ice, taking care of the worst of the smell.

Morrigan looked momentarily nonplused. She let go and the frozen rabbit shattered into icy chunks of bunny flesh and guts as it hit the ground. They regarded it silently for a moment.

“Was there something I could help you with?” Zoe broke the heavy silence with calculated neutrality.

Morrigan’s eyes flashed dangerously. Behind Zoe, Fen’falon whimpered, the mabari tucking himself close against her legs. The mage had to fight to keep the edges of her lips from turning up under the two sets of golden eyes.

“No,” Morrigan said through her clenched jaw, her alabaster skin lightly flushed. “That will suffice.”

The witch turned and walked away with fast angry strides, setting the thin, long muscles of her back and arms on full display. Zoe watched her departure without so much as a flicker of an eyelid to indicate an emotion of any kind. Cautiously, Fen’falon eased out from behind her and nosed one of the icy rabbit chunks.

“If you eat that, you will have to sleep away from the fire tonight,” Zoe advised him.

He huffed softly.

Finally, the mage cracked a smile. “Don’t tell anyone da’fenlen, and do **not** take this as consent of your actions, but she is most attractive when she’s angry.”


	5. An Awkward Time for a Life Changing Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Awkward Time for a Life Changing Revelation - Rated T  
> In the Circle Tower the Warden battles with Sloth.

Zoe had never seen Morrigan enraged before. Annoyed, angry? Yes. Zoe had seen her cheeks white, her lips thinned, her eyes slitted, and her words emerging like daggers. This was different.

Morrigan hissed at the demon, her speech a death-rattle. Small sparks danced around her fine-boned fingers. Her shoulders hunched and she leaned forward aggressively at the waist as she struggled against the compulsions placed upon her. 

The sight, and the admiration it evoked, was nearly enough for Zoe to forget that they were all ensnared, invested in one last, desperate struggle against death. Then the demon struck Morrigan's cheek and Zoe's heart lurched. Her presence shook the Fade as she shoved her way fully into the dream-sphere through sheer force of will.

Trapped as she was, Morrigan’s eyes seized Zoe with triumphant glee. Victory was assumed. The sight shook Zoe to her core as, bolstered by her presence, Morrigan taunted her captor, stripping the demon of its illusions.

Desire, Pride, and Rage, the one thing Morrigan did not pull Zoe towards was Sloth.

And they were triumphant. Morrigan radiated life as they battered away the last of the demon’s hold, smashing apart the metaphor of its body. She turned to Zoe, her cheeks flushed with success. “We will make Sloth pay for trapping us here!” she swore impatiently, seizing Zoe’s hand without reservation.

We. Us.

Zoe swallowed, fighting back a moment too late as Sloth took advantage of her distraction to blast them apart, spinning them off into the shifting eddies of memory and magic.

 _He will pay._ The thought was brittle and smoke curled. Strangely strengthen and diminished by her sudden revelation, Zoe would not loose the woman she had just realized she loved, though she dreaded the outcome of harboring such feelings. 

“I thought so too, once,” Jowan sat down beside her, solidifying in an echo of familiarity. “About my Lilly. This feeling will last forever, I thought.” He sighed sadly. “But it doesn’t. Love is fleeting.” His words began to echo disconcertingly. “Mortal.”

Zoe nodded, feeling the rightness of that. “I’m not so afraid of loosing something that I’m not going to try to have it,” she told him, accepting that all she would ever have would be moments, the impermanence of life.

“But it doesn’t have to be like that.” Jowan set a compassionate hand on her arm. “You could stay. Here. Between the moments, forever at the realization of love. You’d never have to experience loss, the pain of her rejection.” He smiled like he was imparting a gift. “You would be content in a single, perfect moment. Why seek the pain of change?”

Her mind flashed to the spray of blood as Jowan sunk the knife into his hand, jerking them there to that frozen instant. Ignoring the shadowy echoes of Irving and Gregior, he looked through the red haze, straight into her eyes. “Don’t you see how much this hurts!” he sobbed. “If I could make it so it never happened, make time stop so that this moment could never arrive, don’t you think I would have?!”

They were standing in gray, shifting fog, all emotion gone from Jowan’s face. “Why do you think I chose this?” he said calmly, the words dragging with odd placidity. “To return to the circle, knowing what they would do to me.” A sun blazed on his forehead, too bright to look at. “I could not go back to the moment, all I could do was make the pain stop. Do not waste this gift you’ve been offered.”

Zoe shook her head, her mouth gaping with horror. “No.” Her memory pulled them away, the Fade fluctuating as she fought with two different realities. _Run,_ her voice echoed on dungeon stone. _I never want to see you again._

The sun blazed brighter.

“This was my choice,” Jowan told her in a tranquil’s complacent tone. “Why did you take it away from me? Can’t you see how much better it is like this, without pain, without struggle?” A second voice spoke under his words.

Again, her flash of memory shook the world: Morrigan, hissing against the demon’s hold. Beautiful. Strong. Proud.

Zoe’s scream of defiance shattered Jowan’s form as her magic slammed into the demon underneath, ripping it apart.

What would come, would come. 

And Sloth would pay.


End file.
